


To Keep from Breaking

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Love Confessions, M/M, Rape Recovery, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: Daryl and Rick help one another recover from brutal attacks as their relationship grows deeper and stronger.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Comments: 16
Kudos: 90





	To Keep from Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> This is that other one-shot I mentioned the other week. Please mind the tags.

Rick looked like shit. There was no other way to describe it. The beating he got from the governor left him with swollen black eyes, cuts, and bruises over every piece of visible flesh, and most likely a couple of broken ribs. He was limping, dripping with sweat and blood, and his breaths were jagged and shaky.

Daryl couldn’t even remember crossing the yard to get to the other man in the first place. After all the confusion and gunfire, the screams and the walkers, Daryl’s eyes finally found Rick’s lean, familiar silhouette and he moved towards his best friend without thought or plan. It was one hundred percent pure animal instinct. Rick was _his_.

As they drove away from the fall of the prison, Rick’s gasping, broken cries for Carl nearly broke the younger Dixon. 

“He got out. I seen him with Glenn and Maggie,” Daryl kept repeating patiently. He was fairly certain Rick was barely registering his voice at all. His own ears still rang from the gunfire and he was sure that Rick had it even worse, having been closer to the frey. That, in addition to all his injuries, surely wouldn’t allow Rick’s mind room for anything other than pain and grief.

Daryl watched the prison fall in the rearview mirror - another tower crumble with a roar, smoke and concrete choking out the blue of the sky they’d lived under so peacefully for so long. It was another change. Another chapter. Another time they'd need to adapt and adjust. Daryl was lucky that his life had always had a tumbleweed quality to it. But the loss of this prison? It was going to kill Rick. 

******************************************************************

“How long have I been asleep?” Rick asked, his voice still sandpaper-rough from being strangled by the governor.

Daryl handed him a bottle of water, his hand still shaking with the fear he’d been feeling for the past 72 hours. 

“Few days.”

As quickly as Rick tried to stand, he lost his balance and collapsed back onto the couch. “Carl…”

“You ain’t ready to go anywhere yet, Rick. Carl made it out. He was with Glenn and Maggie. I saw Tyreese with Judith.” 

A sigh of partial relief escaped Rick’s dry lips. They weren’t last seen dead and Daryl knew that alone had to harbor some kind of hope. The broken leader looked over towards Daryl, eyes still trying to focus. “You okay?”

“Am _I_ okay?” Daryl gasped. “Jesus Christ, Rick! You been on the verge of death for three days, I been doing nothing but sitting next to you listening to you breathe, terrified you was gonna quit on me. You’re covered in gashes and bruises, twisted ankle, at least two broke ribs, black eyes, and I got nothing but a rock in my shoe! Am _I_ okay?? Christ, are _you_?

He cringed at the sound of his own voice, two pitches higher than usual and teetering on the edge of hysterics. 

Rick’s gaze shifted to the ceiling. “Got a headache,” he said. Then his eyes fluttered shut. 

Daryl stood and paced. He was relieved at hearing Rick’s voice, the determination in him still strong even under his broken body. But his heart ached because he couldn’t take away the other man’s hurt. He’d gladly swap places. He’d beg and plead to take Rick’s pain as his own if there was anyone left in the world to beg and plead to. God? Please. God left years ago. 

He looked at Rick who’s breaths had evened out into the shallow in and out of sleep. It wasn’t until he’d been sitting vigil waiting for the man to die that he realized how utterly and completely he belonged to Rick. All he wanted to do was make him feel better. Make him happy. 

He’d long since known that he would bend to Rick’s will, whatever that may be. If Rick told him to hold an arm out and let a walker bite him, he’d do it without question. But Rick would never do that. Would never ask or expect anything from Daryl that would cause him harm. The leader had looked at Daryl as nothing but a worry at first, way back in the days of the quarry. Then as an ally, then a friend, then family. And the glances Rick was gracing him with the last few weeks of the prison...well, Daryl didn’t know quite what to make of those.

Over the next two days he watched the other man sleep fitfully, letting his mind wander as he sat vigil in the house they were squatting in. He was scared. And he craved the kind of comfort the other man had been able to offer him since they became so close. Words whispered intimately between them. The flat of Rick’s palm on Daryl’s shoulder. Sitting thigh to thigh after long, hard-won days on the road. As he watched Rick fight for his life, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if Rick held him, touched him, ran fingers through his choppy, stringy hair. Rick exuded this affection and comfort that made Daryl want to be the recipient of it. Something he never got from past flings and certainly not from family. 

He’d thought about it before, just sitting closer to Rick, curling into his embrace and finding a comfort he never knew existed. But as he watched over his best friend, let his eyes roam up and down his lean body, from his mop of sweaty curls to his bare feet, he let his mind dip a little deeper.

Rick had lips that were made to be kissed. Plump lips with a sweet smile. He wasn’t all innocent flowers and butterflies tho. Rick had a crazy side. Moments when Rick was most decidedly not Rick. And during those times, looking for ghosts of the past, breaking down, falling apart. During those times, Daryl wanted to be the person that could hold _him_ , touch _him_ , run fingers through _his_ hair. Letting a frustrated, lost Rick settle against him so that Daryl could run calming hands along the other man’s back. Maybe kiss his shoulder. Just an innocent kiss.

But he’d have to live first, so as much as it hurt him to see Rick’s pain, he started waking the man up every four hours to give him Tylenol, force him to drink water, and sip the chicken broth he found a few houses down. He wrapped a tight brace around Rick’s midsection to help with the ribs and worked his ankle like he knew what he was doing, hands massaging the sprain.

“You a physical therapist in your former life?” Rick asked on day seven, Finally awake and aware and drinking water without Daryl having to pour it down his throat.

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Daryl grinned as he massaged the sprained ankle, feeling like he was where he was meant to be, at Rick’s feet and looking up to him for his lead.

“I think we can start moving now. Maybe see if anyone went back to the prison after?”

Daryl shook his head as he stood up. “Nah. Did some recon while you were getting your beauty sleep. It’s gone. Ain’t nothin’ left, Rick.”

The leader looked down at his ankle and flexed it back and forth. “Felt good. Thank you.”

Daryl nodded. “What else hurts?”

Rick met Daryl’s eyes, a comfortable connection between them. They could speak volumes just through a glance. “Shoulder,” Rick said as he rotated an arm and winced.

Daryl motioned for Rick to turn around, and then he sat behind him on the couch and pressed his strong thumbs into the muscles of the other man’s sore shoulder.

The leader groaned and let his neck roll back. “That’s nice,” he said softly.

Feeling Rick’s withering muscles under his hands, Daryl snorted. “Gotta get some real food into you, Grimes. You’re skin and bones.”

“‘M fine,” Rick said as he reluctantly turned around.

“Would you ever tell me if you weren’t?” Daryl asked.

“As long as you were with me I’d always be fine.”

Then that look again. Where Rick’s blue eyes seemed to be searching through Daryl’s, looking for pieces of the other man that Rick could add to his collection of all things Daryl. 

The hunter blinked, but allowed the look to deepen. He _wanted_ Rick to see him, wanted to lay bare all his secrets and horrors and history so that Rick would have it all.

“You ain’t gonna ever lose me, Rick,” Daryl said, whisper-quiet as if it was a secret only for him.

Rick put a hand up to the side of Daryl’s face. “Thought all you had was a rock in your shoe? Where’d this scratch come from?” Rick asked softly as he traced the mark against his cheekbone with a gentle finger.”

Daryl was utterly content sitting there so close to Rick, facing each other, their voices soft and intimate. “Tree branch. Ran into it when I was scrounging for food in the neighborhood.”

Something in Rick seemed to change. The way his body faced Daryl, open and wanting, his voice quiet so Daryl would have to lean close to hear. The hunter felt his heart start racing. God, he thought, he loved this man. He loved him.

Rick slid a finger under the collar of Daryl’s shirt until it showed one of the scars that curled up over his shoulder from the childhood injuries to his back.

“What about this one?” Rick asked softly, his fingers tracing the ugly trail of scar tissue.

Rick’s eyes were still glued to Daryl’s as if there was nothing else in the whole world that he was more concerned about at that moment.

“Old man,” Daryl answered honestly, surprised at how easy it was to confess to Rick. He’d never given those scars words before, but to Rick, he would give anything.

Rick moved slow, still hesitant from his own injuries, and coaxed Daryl out of his shirt, then motioned for him to turn around. 

It was not in his comfort zone to have his back turned on anyone, especially not shirtless. But this wasn’t just anyone. This was Rick and he was asking, so Daryl would give it to him.  
He turned to bare his back, his whole childhood story, for this man to see--this man who, for some reason saw him as someone worthy to know and understand completely. 

As Daryl dropped his head to his chest, Rick traced some of the lines. The moment was so quiet and tentative and Daryl’s nerves started getting the best of him. “It don’t mean I can’t protect myself now. Can protect me and ya and the kids and…”

Rick pressed a kiss to Daryl’s shoulder, the first time the leader's lips had ever brushed his skin, and it caused chills and a flash of heat all at the same time. 

“It don’t mean weakness, Daryl. You were a child. I know you can protect us all. I believe in you.” he kissed again closer to Daryl’s neck, Rick's nose tickling the hairs on the younger man’s chin and then their eyes met.

“Why?” Daryl asked, that one word asking a thousand questions.

“Because,” Rick answered and it was all Daryl really needed to hear because the next second Rick had pressed his lips against Daryl’s, one hand in the hunter’s hair as he sighed into the kiss.

Daryl’s lips were parted in shock and Rick slotted their lips together with ease as if the motions were already familiar. Comfortable. Daryl had only had a few rushed kisses from old flings that barely counted as kisses. And he’d certainly never had one from someone he actually cared about. Loved. It was the lightest feeling in the world. Everything gone, the weight, the worry, the fear. Nothing in the world for that moment but Rick and Daryl and their mouths, tasting and touching, tongues roaming, hands sifting through hair, and fingers spreading along thighs.

Once their slow, leisurely kiss melted away, Rick held Daryl’s head in his hands, his gaze still fiery and strong, penetrating. “If we wouldn’t have gotten out together? If I’d have lost you? You never would have known how much I love you. Need you to know that now, okay?” Rick asked.

Daryl nodded. Desperately wanting to unleash a litany of words to explain how deep his love was for Rick, how long he’d wanted him, how he’d do any goddamn thing in the world for this man, but Dixons weren’t ever known for their prose or their eloquence. “I’d die for you,” he said in return. Rick smiled and nodded, understanding the depth of the sentiment. 

“We should maybe think about trying to find our people.” Rick said as he scooted back a bit.

“Yeah,” Daryl said as he stood. “Been doing some recon out on the road. Place is lousy with signs about this place they’re callin’ Terminus. At the end of the tracks. Those that arrive, survive,” Daryl repeated.

Rick thought hard and nodded slowly. “Yeah, that might be where everyone would try to go.”

“Think you can walk?” Daryl asked.

Rick nodded as Daryl helped him up. There was a new electricity between them now after the kiss and the confession. There’d always been a certain fire there, a certain wordless trust and a strong undeniable connection. And now there was even more. If Daryl could think of a word for it...it was...everything. Just everything. And he tested the bounds of this new level by pressing a quick soft kiss to Rick’s lips once he was on his feet, grinning at him like a goddamn school kid with a new crush. 

By the time they packed up some bags with bottles of water and the food Daryl had scrounged from the neighborhood, it was well past noon, but they wanted to start moving. So much time had already passed.

They left the place they’d called home for two weeks and as they walked, they were a few inches closer than they used to be and smiles graced their idle conversation in a way Daryl had never experienced. The feeling in his heart? Where it was always hidden behind hard muscle and locked behind insecurity? It was now the lightest he’d ever felt, like a balloon in his chest ready to take flight. 

For a few moments, Daryl had forgotten about the end of the world, forgotten about walkers, and the desperation of strangers. Forgot about fear and survival and all he was filled with was the sound of Rick’s southern drawl, talking about nothing and everything and thinking back to that kiss and those hands and wondering if...wondering...when he’d be able to get that from Rick again. 

******************************************

Rick still felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His ribs were sore, his ankle was tender, scarred-over cuts were at that fierce itching stage, and he still had a bit of a headache. But he’d finally opened up to Daryl. Bared his soul and was so relieved to have been given that same love back. It was an unexpected bright point in their recent shit luck. Rick ached for his missing children. He worried about Glenn, about Maggie, Michonne. All of them. But if it weren’t for Daryl being by his side, he knew he’d have lost himself. He’d have been in the woods blind with rage, chasing ghosts until the man upstairs called his number. 

He watched Daryl walk ahead of him, feet whisper-quiet on the forest floor, crossbow out and aimed, and laser-focused on finding them their next meal. The change in the newness of their relationship was hardly a change at all. The only difference was the occasional kisses and the fact that Rick was able to get Daryl to smile more often than he ever did before, despite their worries over their missing family members. 

Daryl swung out an arm, fist up in the air signifying to Rick that he needed to stop immediately The leader froze in place, his breathing and heartbeat both slowing down in response. 

After several long minutes Daryl finally took a shot.

“Only a squirrel but it’s something,” the hunter said when he turned around.

“I’ll take it,” Rick grinned. 

A half hour later they were sitting on the road by an abandoned car, a small fire still crackling, and the squirrel almost gone. 

“This is the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks,” Rick said as he licked the greasy squirrel from his lips. 

“Practically the only thing you’ve eaten in weeks,” Daryl mumbled. “Need to get you more food ‘fore you waste away for good. That gun belt of yours is barely keeping your pants up anymore…not that I mind,” Daryl added. 

Rick burst into a wide smile. “I had no idea you’d be so good at flirting.”

“Stop,” Daryl said, blushing as he tossed a licked-clean squirrel bone into the fire.

Rick just looked at the other man and wondered why he waited so long to make a move. So many lost months, hell, _years_. “Wish I’d have kissed you sooner if I’d have known you wanted me to.”

Daryl shrugged and kept his eyes on the fire. “Still don’t know why you want to.”

“Daryl,” Rick said as he reached out a hand and rested it on the other man’s knee, finally getting the eye contact he wanted. “Because you are everything to me. When I don’t see you in front of me, I’m looking for you. When I lie in bed at night, I’m thinking about you. When I am near you, I want to be nearer. You’re strong and loyal and you’re sexy as hell.”

Daryl seemed to almost believe it until the sexy part, which got Rick a roll of the hunter’s eyes and a snort of laughter. 

“I’m serious, man,” Rick said with a smile. “You haven’t seen a mirror lately. Got those damn shoulders, bluest damn eyes I’ve ever seen, cutest smile…”

“I do _not_ have a cute smile. I have a permanent scowl,” he said smiling.

“Not anymore. Not since I kissed you,” Rick said, almost bragging. After a few minutes of companionable silence Rick said, “Maybe there’s some things you like about me.” He was looking across the road into the dark, thick, woods as he asked, not wanting to burden Daryl with the stress of an expectant stare.

“Maybe,” Daryl said as he broke a few more sticks to add to the fire. “Guess I like them curls ‘a yours.”

“Yeah?” Rick asked with an uncontrollable grin.

Daryl shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe. And maybe that way you walk.”

“How do I walk?” Rick laughed, focusing his gaze on Daryl who was now fully engaged in eye contact and wearing a flirtatious smile.

“All bowlegged and slow and methodical. Gun belt hanging low on them slim hips. Maybe I noticed that shit before,” Daryl said.

“Yeah? Noticed when?”

“None of your damn business, that’s when,” Daryl answered.

Rick leaned in and pressed a kiss to Daryl’s pouty lips and the hunter returned it, his hands moving to Rick’s thighs with a soft moan, the only other sound disturbing the steady chirps of nighttime crickets singing their songs.

Rick moved his hands to Daryl’s biceps and revelled in the strength of them, the strong muscle and rough skin. He barely registered the sound of a twig breaking and as Daryl pulled away at the sound of the crack, another noise froze them both. Click.

“Ain’t this romantic?” a rough voice laughed. Rick and Daryl both looked up to see not only the man who spoke laughing, but four others near him, all with guns aimed. “Name’s Joe,” he added.

“We only have a few cans of food left,” Rick said calmly as he raised his hands in surrender. “A bottle of water. You can take it all. We aren’t gonna make any trouble,” 

“Noticed you didn’t mention that sweet Colt strapped to your side there.”

Rick looked down at his waist and back up. “It’s yours. It’s all yours. We have family we’re looking for. We haven’t caused you any trouble. There’s no need for this to get ugly.”

Daryl stayed silent.

“So’s you’re saying I can take everything you got and we can walk away and you ain’t gonna come after us.”

“Yes,” Rick answered. “We don’t care about any of this stuff. We just care about our people. We’re looking for them. We have no need or desire to come after you.”

Joe nodded his head. “Sounds like a decent deal. We’ll take the food, the water,” Joe’s eyes dropped to Rick’s waist. “The gun,” his eyes then scanned the rest of their meager camp. “The crossbow.”

Rick breathed a long slow breath of relief. “That’s fair.”

“And a quick piece of ass before we all leave. Ain’t been laid in a while and you seem like the one who takes it in the ass, so strip and bend over.”

Daryl jumped to his feet as four guns cocked. He held his hands over his head. “No. No. Please don’t. Take it from me.”

“Daryl, no.” Rick said firmly.

“Awww. Is this your first marital spat? Arguin’ over who gets the privilege of being fucked by us?”

“I won’t bite, I won’t yell, I won’t move,” Daryl pleaded. “Take it from me.”

Rick stood, his hands raised, ready to make the same offer and demand that Daryl be spared, but Joe had already tired of the game.

“Sold,” he said as hostered his gun and started to unzip. “Len, Tony - hold the scrawny one back and cover his mouth. Don’t need my fun ruined by screams stirring up the walkers. Lou, Harley, help relieve this one of his pants and hold him down.”

Before Rick could utter another word, two of Joe's men grabbed him and held him tight, one of their dirty hands covering Rick’s mouth. He screamed and begged and pleaded as he watched the other men strip Daryl completely, but it was all muffled, the sound of it foreign and far away. His ears filled with the sound of his own thudding heartbeat.

“I won’t fight ya,” Daryl kept saying as the two men slammed his shoulders into the dirt, Joe pulling his hips up for better access to the hunter’s bare ass.

Joe looked up and locked eyes with Rick and the helpless leader slammed them shut.

“No, no, no, skinny one. I want you to be able to see this. Might as well get some enjoyment yourself.”

Rick fought against his captors as one of their hands pulled his eyelids up and forced his head towards Daryl. Tears stung Rick’s eyes as he heard Daryl’s pleading. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll be good for you.” 

Daryl. So protective, so loyal, still trying to protect Rick even as _he_ was the one naked and kneeling, about to be brutally raped. It broke him. It broke Rick into a thousand pieces and his weak knees lost their footing as the other men held him up, kept his mouth covered, and his eyes open.

And then it all happened. So fast. Rick watching one man after another take turns fucking Daryl. One cock pulling out, bloodied from splitting Daryl open, before the next one entered. Rick’s ears rang loudly and all the other sounds were dull but still heard over the dizzying sound of the ringing. Daryl grunting as each pump pushed him deeper into the ground. The men around him, laughing. The sound of skin on skin. Rick felt nauseous, helpless, _responsible_.

Time seemed to linger like a broken second hand struggling to keep time. It was the same moment over and over. Daryl on the ground, face turned to Rick’s, eyes on Rick’s as if he was focused more on letting the leader know he was okay rather than the brutality of what was happening to his own body.

Rick’s vision blurred with tears and he started choking on his own words as he desperately continued begging them to stop. Suddenly everything went quiet and Daryl got a swift kick to the side before collapsing bonelessly into the dirt. Broken, bloodied, exhausted. His wrecked body heaved as he gasped for air.

Rick stopped moving, stopped pleading and turned his attention to Joe who was shouldering the crossbow with one hand and aiming a gun back at Rick with the other. One of Joe’s men was still holding him tightly. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m not good for my word,” Joe started. “But looking at this heap on the ground,” he said, pointing to Daryl. “I think it’s better if we just put him out of his misery.”

Joe swung the gun towards Daryl and time stopped. Sound stopped. Breathing stopped. Heartbeats stopped. Rick's blurry vision cleared and everything he saw was tinged in red. The silence was deafening. Rick’s hands were held firm behind his back. His complex thought process happened in the blink of an eye and he turned his head and sunk his teeth into the throat of his captor. Blood flooded his mouth and soaked his beard. As the body behind him dropped, he managed to grab the man’s gun and shoot Joe’s other three men before their leader could even understand what was happening. 

“Jesus Christ,” Joe mumbled as Rick advanced on him, the shock of the moment making Joe momentarily forget about his own weapon. By the time he remembered and tried to point it at Rick, the leader was on him, knocking it out of his hand, dropping his own gun, and pulling out his long knife, gutting Joe from stomach to sternum. Joe dropped to the ground in a heap, blood oozing out of his mouth and his nose. 

The sound of the crickets slowly came back to Rick and he turned to face Daryl who had not moved, still collapsed on the ground where he’d been assaulted so viciously.

The other man’s eyes were open, wet from tears, and he was concentrating on every breath as if it hurt to inhale. “‘M okay,” Daryl said, his voice gravel and glass.

Rick fell to his knees in front of his best friend, his soulmate, his everything.

“Daryl, I’m so sorry. Jesus Christ I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t,” Daryl said sharply, clearly not interested in hearing words about something that was already done and over with.

Rick quieted, determined to do whatever Daryl needed him to do. He reached out a tentative hand and before he could even lay a finger on him, the hunter flinched and backed away.

Rick’s heart sank like a stone in the deepest parts of the ocean. He knew Daryl, probably better than he knew himself. And the man wasn’t going to want to be babied or doted on or comforted. All he would want was to put his armor back up and show that he was strong, complete, and in control.

He sat up with a wince and struggled to get to his feet.

“What can I do?” Rick asked quietly as if it would be blasphemous to talk too loud at a time like this.

“My clothes,” Daryl grunted and Rick picked them up and held them out. 

The hunter kept his eyes on the ground as he took one item at a time, dressing slowly and with complete concentration.

“We have to get somewhere you can...clean up…and recuperate,” Rick said softly. “Think you can walk? Or should we...should we just wait here a bit? You could lie down in the back of the car.”

Daryl looked down the road the way they had come. “Was a cabin back there. ‘bout a mile. I can make it. Just need to move slow.”

Rick fought his instinct to reach out and help steady his friend as he walked. He knew the man wouldn’t want the help or the implication that he was too weak to move on his own, so he just followed at his side as they started to walk away from the massacre and head to shelter.

It was slow going and it was hard to watch. Daryl was clearly in a lot of pain. His steps were so careful and calculated and his face remained ashen, eyes glazed, only looking at the road ahead, calculating every step of the rocky asphalt before each move.

“We can take a break whenever you need,” Rick said.

“‘M good,” Daryl mumbled as he continued to put one shaky foot ahead of the other. They were lucky they didn’t run into walkers. Luckily there were no other predators out there looking for prey. Finally, after a long, slow trek, they made it back to the cabin Daryl had seen earlier.

Once inside, the hunter collapsed onto the dusty, worn-out couch, wincing in pain and turning onto his side in search of a semblance of comfort. “I just need the night. I can find us some game in the mornin’. Saw some tracks on the way in.”

“Daryl.” Rick finally said, his voice no longer hidden in worry. “This isn’t how this works. This doesn’t happen and then you get up and go buy me dinner for fuck’s sake!” Rick was angry. He hated it, hated the way Daryl had control of his emotions in a way Rick would never be able to. He could never be what Daryl was and the hunter probably knew it. Knew he wouldn’t have been able to take the abuse Joe doled out so Daryl took it himself.

Daryl’s eyes looked tired, but he kept them open, and Rick knew it was just for his sake. Daryl knew Rick had to yell and rant and shake fists to the sky and despite his own wants and needs he’d allow the leader to have it.

“Why did you DO that?” Rick cried out. “Why didn’t you just let them take _me_?” Rick screamed, tears flooding his eyes once again, spilling over and creating trails of clean skin down his dirty cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl said and that just made Rick’s blood boil with even more rage. This man took a brutal gang rape to spare it from Rick and _apologized_ for it?!

Rick walked away from the living room, walked down the long narrow hall, and circled back, punching a hole through the wall by the door they came in through. He took a deep breath then turned back to Daryl. In a calmer voice he continued. “I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to let me help you. I want you to talk to me. I don’t want you to lock this away in your dark closets and suffer in silence with it.”

“What do you need me to say?” Daryl asked, so open, so innocent, so willing to give Rick anything he wanted.

“Whatever you need to say, Daryl. I don’t know. I want you to be mad.”

“They’re gone, Rick. You made sure of that. Ain’t nothing left to wish dead.”

“Then be mad at me for letting it happen,” Rick insisted.

“Told you I’d die for you, Rick. I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

Rick sat on the rickety coffee table, elbows on his knees, his eyes begging Daryl for the forgiveness the other man clearly didn’t think needed to be given.

“There was a well pump out front,” Rick said softly. “Let me get some water and get you cleaned up.”

Daryl nodded. “Okay.”

To Rick’s surprise, Daryl allowed himself to be undressed and he stood before Rick, naked, dirty, a deadness in his eyes that Rick had never seen there before.

“You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?” Rick asked as he held up the soaking wet washcloth. 

“I know.”

But even though he did, the hunter flinched at the first contact. 

“It’s okay,” Rick soothed. “I’ll go slow, you can watch my hands. I won’t hurt you.” The leader ran a washcloth over Daryl’s dirty and grit covered body. Without soap there was only so much he could do, but Rick cleaned over the scrapes on other man’s hands, knees, and upper body and gently scrubbed the dried blood and cum from his back. He stopped before he got to Daryl’s ass. It was clinched tight and his whole body had started shaking.

“We need to clean you everywhere so there won’t be an infection. I have some first aid ointment in my bag,” Rick said softly. He looked up at the hunter to see his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched.

“You can do it yourself if you want,” Rick offered.

Daryl shook his head. “Just get it over with,” he said quietly.

Rick moved as fast as he could while still being as gentle as possible. Once the ointment was applied, he helped Daryl lie back down on the couch and situate himself on his side. 

Rick grabbed a homemade afghan that was lying on one of the chairs and before he could even cover the hunter, the man was fast asleep.

He got up and checked the windows, checked his Colt for bullets and put it back in its holster. It would only be a couple hours before daylight. They should be okay. He sat in the chair near Daryl and watched the man sleep, catalogued his every breath, and shushed him at any whimper of a nightmare. “You’re okay. I’m here,” he whispered more than once. He didn’t remember how long he held vigil over Daryl. It was at least the rest of the night and well into the light of the next day, but at some point he must have fallen asleep.

He woke to see Daryl’s bright blue eyes open and watching him cautiously.

“Mornin’” Daryl said.

“Morning.” He stood and stretched and brought the bottle of water over to the hunter. “How you feeling this morning?”

“I feel like you’re gonna get pissed if I say fine,” Daryl answered, trying desperately for a glimmer of humor in the dark ugliness that was now surrounding them.

“I’m sorry I yelled last night,” Rick said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know,” Daryl said. 

Rick reached into the bag for a smushed granola bar they’d managed to find in the abandoned car the night before and handed it to Daryl.

“You keep half,” Daryl said without reaching for it. 

“Ate last night while you were sleeping,” Rick lied.

Daryl grabbed the bar and took a bite. “No you didn’t,” he said flatly.

Rick rubbed a hand through his beard, suddenly remembering that he’d never cleaned up after chewing the jugular out of one of Daryl’s attackers. 

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “You could use a little clean water yourself.”

“Christ, not sure it’s gonna come out. Hope you don’t mind dating a redhead,” Rick said, making mention of their new relationship in hopes that the horrors of the night before didn’t alter it.

“That what we’re doing?” Daryl asked after another bite. “Datin’?”

“I’ll do any damn thing you let me, Daryl. I _love_ you.

Daryl huffed a laugh at that and shook his head.

“Why would you not believe me?”

After a good ten minutes of quiet, Daryl finally turned to him. “You want me to talk, Rick? That what you want? Fine. I’ll talk. I’m ruined for you. You’ll never be able to look at me, touch me without thinkin’ bout what you saw. Ain’t a virgin no more. Ain’t gonna want to be touched that way and you’re a man and you’re gonna want what I won’t be able to give…”

“Jesus,” Rick gasped. “You were a virgin?”

Daryl looked down at the floor, bit his lip, and gave a terse nod.

“I’m so sorry,” Rick whispered so quietly he couldn’t be sure Daryl even heard it. “You aren’t ruined. I need you to believe me. You aren’t ruined. And I don’t need what they took from you. I don’t need a goddamn thing you aren’t willing to give me, Daryl, and if all that is, is friendship, I’ll take it. I’m in love with you and nothing is going to change that. If you can’t ever touch me again, can’t ever let me touch you...that’s okay. That’s okay. I just...I just hope you’ll still let me love you. Cause I don’t know if I can stop doing that, Daryl.”

“Don’t want ya to stop,” Daryl said softly.

**Author's Note:**

> So my wonderful friend and beta, LOTR58, thinks I could really add to this by following along the canon story with this dynamic between them. I may do so by turning this into a series. Thoughts? Input?
> 
> Also- The next chapter of Flower to the Sun is still scheduled for Thursday!


End file.
